


the six first's to becoming bucky barnes

by sweaterlou



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Recovery, bucky sometimes sleeps on steve's couch, just a bunch of babies slowly getting used to each other, steve draws bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 16:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1517165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweaterlou/pseuds/sweaterlou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>he was just supposed to be a man, but instead it was bucky. or the story where it takes bucky forever to become himself again but steve will always be there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the six first's to becoming bucky barnes

the first sight

i.

He was supposed to be just a man.   
He was just supposed to be a man to shoot and kill because, well, he was killing people. lots of people. and it was Steve’s job to kill people like that.   
He was going to be that man until the mask that covered the lower part of his face fell off and Steve was left with the realization that no, he couldn’t.  
He was supposed to be just a man, but instead it was Bucky. 

ii.

Except it wasn’t Bucky.  
At least, the man said that he wasn’t.  
Nearly took Steve’s head off when he called his name. And Steve, he was confused. Because those eyes, that nose, those lips and the jaw all belonged to the name he knew as Bucky.   
And he wanted to believe that Bucky was just messing with him. Hoping that that old smile would take over his lips and that sandpaper laugh would topple out of them and suddenly they would be back at the bar before the war, happy as two soldiers could be.   
But of course he wasn’t, as he exclaimed with a fist to Steve’s mouth. 

iii. 

Hours later as he looked over the edge of the bridge, Steve still knew.  
He knew that the man on the bridge was James Buchanan Barnes, born in Brooklyn and raised in the army. Liked to drink the heavy stuff before breakfast and would always stay up late with Steve as he nearly died every night coughing. The kindest man to ever throw a sharp uppercut.   
He knew it was him and he knew he was lost.   
He only wondered why it had to be him, out of all people, that he was meant to kill?

 

the first touch

i.

There was an explosion.  
A crash.   
Dark, dark smoke and blue eyes.  
And suddenly there was falling. miles and miles of falling until there was water. Almost too much of it. Steve’s mind flittered with darkness and really in that moment, he was okay with death.  
Because he had lost his best friend, again.   
He had been so, so close to getting him back but then fate had cut the string and all he wanted now was peace.  
The burning in his lungs strangely felt like a metal hand closing around them.

ii. 

Steve wakes up on a beach.  
Not in heaven.  
But a sandy, wet beach.  
To be quite honest, he’s a bit disappointed.   
He sits up and groans as his body takes in the effects of everything that has happened in the last few hours and suddenly there is a sharp twinge in his shoulder. He hisses as he pulls at the slightly charred material, and nearly feels himself faint again when he takes a look at his shoulder.  
Perfect five finger points and the ridges of machinery etched into his skin.

iii.

It’s not until weeks later, that Steve realizes that that was the first time Bucky had laid a helping hand on him for 70 or so years.  
This time, he does pass out. 

 

the first conversation

i.

His phone has been going off at random points during the day for exactly 16 days. The number is from restricted, and even S.H.I.E.L.D can’t locate the number, which is a bit nerve wracking for a few. But Steve says it’s no harm, since all they do is let it ring four times and then hang up.   
Although he does wish they would stop calling during the night.  
Especially when the volume is “somehow put all the way up to the max volume,” (more well known as Tony Stark,) and suddenly the Star Spangled Banner is blasting out into his apartment at 4 in the morning. 

ii.

Normally, he never picks up. What’s the point in wasting minutes?  
But he’s had enough and he manages to pull himself off of the floor from where he fell out of bed, and back up to pick up the phone on it’s fourth and final ring. He presses the cool metal to his ear and takes a long deep breath.   
“What.”  
And there’s just.. silence.   
He always knew it would be just that, but he was really hoping to empty out his tired anger on some little shit who paid Tony ten bucks for the phone number to Captain America.   
He just sighs and pulls the phone away from him to click it off, but suddenly there’s a small cough.   
A throat trying to working.   
A slight croak as the person tries to talk.   
“You were always angry when I woke you up in the middle of the night.”  
Steve freezes.  
A pained chuckle from the other side. More of a gasp.  
“Looks like nothing has changed.”

iii.

It’s weird, to hear Bucky’s voice through a phone.   
Steve had always talked to him in person, or through letters, so that rough sandpaper voice sounded even more damaged as the static clicked through the lines.   
He wants to say something. so badly.   
Are you okay?  
Where are you?  
Come to brooklyn.  
I miss you.  
But his mouth isn’t working and his heart is beating so loudly that he can’t even process the action, so he just works his mouth open and close until he hears Bucky sigh.   
“I’m sor..” but he doesn’t finish his sentence.   
The line clicks off.   
Steve just sits there.

iv. 

“I’m so sorry.”

 

the first hug

i.

Six weeks since the call and Steve is getting really sick of this whole treading around the edges bullshit.   
He sees Bucky around.  
Sees him when he jogs early in the morning, sitting in the same seat at the same coffee shop. Steve chuckles to himself every time because he knows Bucky hates coffee, and can see it when he sips at it to seem not so out of place.  
Sees him when he goes to the supermarket, pretending to pick out vegetables but really, who tries to pick the perfect carrot for 30 minutes.   
And he defiantly sees him when he’s out with Tony on those nights when being a lonely, old fashioned war hero gets to be too much. Sees him lurk around in the darkest corners of bars, bottles of beer surrounding him.  
He never has to ask who buys him shots.   
He’s tired of almost Bucky, so he decides to stop it.

ii.

He leaves the bar when the girls become too drunk and the heat begins to itch at his neck and he welcomes to cool night air when he steps out.   
He begins walking the three blocks back to his apartment. never rides his bike, too dangerous, and the walk always helps him sober up.  
But tonight he’s not drunk and he’s walking slow enough for Bucky to take his own leave from the bar, 10 minutes after his own.   
He walks slowly, heel to heel because he has nothing else better to do and suddenly there are quiet steps following his own. He smiles, listens to Bucky try not to make any noise.   
He walks around the block, stops and turns around. and he waits. Waits one, two, three steps and when Bucky goes to turn the corner, he’s met with Steve’s collarbone.   
“You never were that sneaky, Buck.”

iii.

Bucky doesn’t flee.   
Steve never thought he would.   
They just stare at one another, wondering who was going to be the first one to throw a punch or the first one to make a run for it.  
But neither do.

iv.

“How long?”  
Bucky grimaces.  
“Since the beach.”  
Steve nods and looks up at the sky, legs feeling like jelly and stomach tightening more. He wants to tell Bucky he’s been looking for him since then, too, but he doesn’t. He decides to save it for later.   
“Do you.. remember?”  
“A little. Most of it’s still a blur and I still feel the need to kill, but now most of the urges are covered up by..”  
“By what?”  
A pause.  
“By you.”

v.

Steve lets out a breath that’s been stuck in his throat and he looks back down.  
Bucky’s rubbing the part of his shoulder where the real skin meets the metal and suddenly, there’s nothing about the Winter Soldier in him.  
It’s just Bucky.  
Not the man he was once meant to kill. The man who killed. Was killed.  
Just Bucky.   
And even if Steve could of helped himself, he leans in and wraps his large arms around Bucky’s slightly smaller ones and finally breathes.   
He breathes and there’s a smell of ash and metal and too much cheap beer but there’s also Bucky, and that’s even better. 

vi.

Bucky still doesn’t run.   
A cold metal hand grips the back of Steve’s hair and the arms around him are so tight he can’t breath, but he couldn’t give a damn.

 

the first trust

i.

It’s April.   
It’s rainy and slightly chilly and all Steve can think about is if Bucky is safe.  
He never said where he was staying, or even if he had a ‘where’ but he had said he was safe where he was.   
But it was crazy outside, wind and heavy rain whipping around, pulling branches from trees and sending anything loose into the air.   
Steve just hopes that it’s dry where Bucky is. 

ii.

He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew was that there was a small knock on the door and that the clock said it was eleven at night.  
He sprints to the door, nearly knocking down a few pictures from the wall, and when he pries the door open he can’t help but to smile softly.  
Bucky’s standing there, sweatshirt drenched and dripping from the sleeves, and hair tangled in front of his eyes.   
He looks up, and Steve almost cracks up, because the first emotion he sees on the new Bucky’s face, of course, is annoyance.   
“I have never liked the rain.”  
“I know, Buck.”

iii.

He gives him a towel, some dry clothes and a whole lot of space.   
Steve doesn’t know how he deals with closed in spaces now, even though his apartment is pretty sizable, so he doesn’t want to test it and have the man running back out into the storm.   
Instead, he lays in his bed and watches infomercials for two hours until his eyes begin to get heavy.   
There’s a cough from the doorway.  
He jumps and squints, looking at Bucky who is standing there with a roll of gauze. His eyes are roaming around the room, trying to look everywhere but Steve.   
“The rain.. it’s bad for my, uh..”  
Steve looks at his arm, his mechanical arm, and sees how the gears seem to be working slower. He doesn’t have to ask.  
He pats the bed space next to him and smiles.   
“Gotcha.”

iv. 

He goes slow wrapping Bucky’s arm.   
The man’s about as rigid as a board and Steve knows he’s putting his trust in his hands So he tries his best to be the most gentle with his movements. When Bucky winces, (which surprises Steve because couldn’t he not feel there?,) Steve winces with him and stops moving for a full thirty seconds.   
The whole thing takes ten minutes but by the end, Bucky seems to move his arm more comfortably and his shoulders are relaxed.   
Steve counts it as a win. 

v.

Bucky sleeps on the couch and is gone by morning, but his sweatshirt is still laying on the chair when Steve wakes up.  
He leaves the door unlocked. 

 

the first kiss

i. 

Summer comes and it’s hot and tiring and brings nothing exciting for Steve.  
He sits around his apartment on days when Natasha is off with a mission and Sam is doing his counseling. Those are most days.   
So he draws.   
He used to draw back before he was who he was now and he’s out of practice, but it brings him a sense of happiness.   
He draws silhouettes of his coffee mug, the old couple who walks by his apartment at exactly 1:15 everything evening, the cat that perches itself on his balcony.   
He draws everything that he loves.  
He draws Bucky.

ii. 

He leaves his drawings pinned up on his walls. They remind him of his old home.   
By the midst of summer, most of his white walls are covered in hundreds of pieces of paper. Black sketchings clouding up the room, making it seem smaller, but it’s nice.   
There’s a total of one hundred and forty drawings, and Bucky is ninety of them.   
Alot of them are from memory. Back when Bucky was Bucky and he always had a crooked grin on his face and a arm around a girl. Pictures of him sitting on their old bed, half asleep from work all day. Him making breakfast and swearing about getting kicked out of the bar the night before. Him next to steve in the trenches, jaw locked as explosions ring through the air.   
Steve never draws him falling from his grip.  
He only draws the happy things. 

iii.

Bucky comes and goes as he pleases.   
Steve doesn’t mind.  
Most of the time, he just stumbles in at god knows how late and lays down on the couch. Steve’s not sure if he sleeps, but the blanket is always undone and on the floor in the morning so maybe he does.   
Sometimes he will stand in Steve’s bedroom doorway and open and close his mouth, like he wants to say something. Steve wishes he did. But he always just ends up shaking his head and walking back to the living room.   
Bucky is stubborn and Steve is always willing to share his bed with his best friend.

iv.

He does speak one night, how ever.   
“You could always draw, Stevie. Always told you.”  
Steve looks up from his sketchpad and sighs. There are new scars on Bucky’s face and he looks so, so tired. His body is barely holding itself upright against the doorjam.   
“It’s just something to pass the time with.”  
Bucky nods and closes his eyes.   
It’s quiet for a few minutes.   
“You like to draw me.”  
“I’ve always like to draw you.”  
Bucky does the thing again, where he looks like he wants to say something and Steve hates it. So he lifts the corner of the blanket and throws his sketchpad on the ground. He tilts his head towards the area and purses his lips.   
It’s so quiet that he can hear the clock from the living room and Bucky’s sigh is deafening.   
He takes off his boots.

v. 

It’s like back in the days.  
Except this time, Steve wraps his arms around Bucky instead of the other way and okay, maybe it feels better this way.   
They’re about the same height and it’s kinda hard to move because suddenly they both are so muscular, but it feels right.  
A small whirring sound comes from Bucky’s mechanical arm and it’s the only sound other than their breath. it’s comforting.   
They lay there for hours but neither sleep. 

vi. 

Morning comes. Bucky’s body tenses as the sun washes over the room, reflexes kicking in. He goes to pull away but the arms around him won’t let him and maybe he’s okay with it.   
“Please stay.”  
Steve’s voice breaks, but he makes himself believe it’s because of sleep.   
Bucky turns his head, hair masking his eyes, but Steve can see the blue and his heart warms.   
Suddenly everything is too close and hot and Bucky is there, he’s really there, and Steve’s heart picks up because it’s been years. It feels like a dream.   
It is a dream, has to be. 

vii.

But then one of them, or both of them who knows, moves and there’s a small touch of lips. It’s new and old and exciting and nerve wracking all at the same time and everything seems to be alright for once.  
The kiss is short and would be barely considered a kiss but when Steve looks at the man in his arms, the man he was supposed to kill on the bridge that day, his eyes are peeking with light and suddenly, Bucky is there and the corner of his lips twitch with a smile that hasn’t been there since the war.  
And Steve knows everything’s gonna be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys!!!!! so im obsessed w this ship and this is my first story from them but def not my last. i hope everyone liked it and if you wanna contact me or SEND ME PROMPTS (please) you can find me at avidang.tumblr.com  
> love you all


End file.
